Flawed Avatar
by PirateEarth
Summary: Every hundred years, an Avatar is born to bring balance to the world. But nothing is ever quite that simple, and every so often, something goes wrong. Rated for violence.
1. The Brewing Storm

**Standard Disclaimer: **Nickelodeon's Avatar: The Last Airbender is the sole property of… someone who isn't me. My money's on Nickelodeon. I am using the characters, places, and world physics purely recreationally, and I can quit whenever I want. Really, I can. Sorry I made the main character so uber, I'll tone him down in future chapters.

"Makka! Get upstairs and clean the rooms. I don't pay you to mingle with the guests."

Rolling her eyes, Makka tried to keep some semblance of grace as she smiled an apology at the soldier, and got to her feet. "You'll pardon me, I hope. Duty beckons. I'll return when I can."

The young man smiled shyly, looking back down at his stew. "And I'll look forward to it."

As the girl did her best impersonation of a saunter up the stairs, the door slammed open, revealing the evening mist and the loud, boisterous trio of Earth Kingdom soldiers as they stumbled in. "Pato, why didn't you come out with us? We've only got a few days left on leave." They each collapsed on benches at the youth's table.

"I'm tired. I just want one quiet night in a warm bed where I don't drink myself silly the night before, and I don't have to wake up at the crack of dawn. Go have your fun, boys." He smiled, not unkindly, at his rowdy friends. The public room of the inn was fairly empty, but what few patrons there were couldn't appreciate the intrusion. An old woman sitting by the fire looked over and smiled, but the couple sitting by the window trying to have an intimate dinner were less pleased. The man at the other end of this same table was merely ignoring everything, patiently eating his noodles.

"We're not leaving without you, Pato, even if we have to carry you out the door. You're gonna enjoy this leave."

The sober youth sighed. Whatever it took to calm down his friends, even if it meant missing the chance at an evening with Makka. Still, he could probably slip away and make it back before her shift ended. "Fine, just let me finish the stew." He went to task with his spoon, shoveling the broth and meat into his mouth.

After a victory cheer, the other soldiers seemed to grow bored. Looking for sport, one turned and walked down the table, to its other occupant. "And you, friend? Come, join the mighty Earth Army for a night on the town!"

The stranger finally took notice, swiveling his one-eyed gaze up at the intruding man. A black patch covered his left eye, but the gray right eye held him in a blank stare for a few seconds, until the soldier started feeling uncomfortable.

"No thank you. I must be on my way shortly." As he turned back to his soup, he pulled the neck of his robe closer to ward off the chill creeping through the open door. The inebriated soldier noticed the callous hands, the thick wrists, the unadorned leather cuff.

"You're a fighter, then? Gonna join up with the Earth Army and fight the Fire Nation back?"

This brought half a smile to the man's face. "Armies are not for me. I do what I can to help the war effort, but joining up is an ineffective use of my talents."

Injured pride, unrestrained by inhibitions, filled the soldier's face. "The Army is ineffective? We've held off the Fire Nation for a hundred years, and we will win the war. Without whatever help you claim to offer." He sneered at the seated man, then made a grab for his mug. "Let's see what this one man army drinks… water! Not even man enough to hold down liquor? Look at this guy, boys." He turned to laugh with his friends.

"Guys, I finished my stew. Let's just go, okay? The alehouses will close soon, leave the man alone." Only Pato noticed the man slowly slide his hand, palm down, across the table. Ball it into a fist, twist the fist palm up.

By now the aggravator turned back to his prey. "…What are you do-GAH!" The man flung open his hand, and the water in the cup burst out, soaking the boy's face. He stood there a moment sputtering as the man dropped a few coins on the table and turned to leave.

"A waterbender, eh? Get back here, you sneaky coward!" He grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled him around, fist swung out to connect with his face. At least, that was the plan, before the man swept his arm up, brushing the fist aside at the wrist, then twisting his forearm to grab the soldier's elbow and pull, keeping the momentum of the swing going. A simple kick and the soldier was sprawled across the floor. He jumped up in a fighting pose, only to see the stranger step out through the door into the mist.

"Classic waterbender tactics, using an opponents force against him."

"Shut up, Pato. He's not going to catch me the same way twice."

Wiping dust left unnoticed til now under a table off his face, he staggered out into the night, glancing left and right until he saw the departing stranger's back less than half a block away. He charged, then stopped, dropping into a fighting crouch. With a grunt, he slammed his foot into the ground, calling up a ball of stone to hurl at his opponent.

At the stamp, the man spun, flinging out an arm. Something like a short stick flew from his grasp, smacking into the rock before the Earthbender had a chance to complete the standard attack. Rocked off balance, the stone moved backwards and crashed into its summoner, crumbling over him and sending him sprawling to the ground, down for the count. By now the commotion had drawn out Pato and his two remaining friends; even Makka came downstairs to see what the commotion was, ignoring the landlady's complaints. They watched him walk to the fallen boy and retrieve his stick from the ground. With a snap of his wrist, he revealed it to be a fan as he opened it, the webbing lustrous in the pale light coming from the few lit windows on the street.

Pato caught his breath. "War fans of the water tribes. I saw a demonstration once when I visited the island of Kyoshi as a child." He cleared his throat and spoke louder to address the stranger. "I apologize for my friend's rude behavior, and I hope it doesn't reflect on all the – Moji!"

The two other soldiers had stepped forward, belligerent and drunk, in battle stance. The one Pato was chastising had just lunged and stamped the ground. A ripple flew in a straight line towards the stranger, the ground hulking in its wake, as a spear of stone thrust itself at the man's face. Snapping his fan closed and falling backwards out of the way, he caught the tip of it in his hand, swinging up a foot as he fell to break it at the base. He turned his fall into a backwards roll, and came up flinging the spear at the last remaining soldier.

With a grunt and a fist slammed into the air, the target reduced the spear to sand which clouded for a moment in the cold night air, before being split by a flung fan which caught the surprised boy full in the face. The waterbender came leaping out of the mist and grabbed his fan back in mid-air, opening it as he spun and slashed at the boy's throat.

The Earth soldier felt no pain, but his helmet slid off his head as the slit chinstrap slipped past his ears. Frozen in panic and terror for a moment, and still halfway convinced his throat had been cut, he made no move to block as his opponents leg swept in a circle to connect with his jaw, dropping him.

The two remaining combatants faced each other now. Moji, in his green armor, anger and a little fear burning away the alcohol in his blood and the fuzz across his brain. And the stranger, still looking bored. His light outer robe had fallen open at the front, revealing a leather vest and baggy pants held up by a blue sash at the waist. A second fan was tucked into the sash. On his feet, a pair of simple, worn, but clean sandals.

For a moment, all was quiet. Pato gave a thought to trying once again to defuse the situation, but decided instead to retreat and afford Makka what protection he could in case the fight got out of hand. The only sound for long seconds was the quick breathing of Moji.

"What is your name, waterbender?" No response. "I asked you your name!"

The stranger smiled, as though at a private joke. "Tarno."

Somehow insulted by this, though he himself later couldn't say why, Moji made the first move. He stamped a stone out of the ground, and sent it flying at Tarno. Easily ducking under it, Tarno waved his hands in a quick, complicated pattern. The mist around Moji coalesced on his arms, freezing solid. The extra weight pulled him to the ground, and binding his hands effectively stopped him from being able to fight.

Threat gone, the stranger slipped into a more relaxed pose, running a hand through his shaggy, dark hair and stepping over to one of the felled boys. He pulled a few small coins out of his purse, dropping them in the helmet. "To fix the chinstrap," he explained. "I was being flashy; I'm sorry. I tend to grandstand."

Makka stepped forward. "You are truly a great fighter to have beaten such odds."

Tarno barked a laugh. "A waterbender, in mist, taking on three drunken children, one at a time? The standards of 'great' have lowered since last I checked." But the smile in his gray eye took the sting out of his rebuke.

Pato stepped up next to Makka. "You fought with honor, when my friends lacked theirs. You failed to be cruel to them when no one would have blamed you for it. Again, I apologize for their behavior."

"No apology is necessary. I, too, have been drunk and young before. It's just a part of OOF!" This last as Moji, though unable to move his arms, had kicked at the ground and sent a column of earth into the victor's face. The eyepatch flew off, landing in the mud nearby, as Tarno staggered back, dazed by the blow.

"Moji! If you can do nothing else tonight with the honor becoming a warrior, at least lose gracefully." Pato stalked to his laughing friend and kicked him hard in the side, but Moji just kept chortling.

"Pa… Pato!" Makka was staring wide-eyed at the waterbender, hand to her mouth, backing away quickly.

"What's the matter? What happened?" The youth rushed to her side.

"His… his eyes!"

"Huh?" Pato looked up at where Tarno staggered still, blinking both eyes, trying to focus them. Realization of what he was seeing dawned, despite the low light, and he dropped into a fighting stance. "Get back inside. I'll hold him off as long as I can."

As Makka fled, Tarno seemed to recover his wits. He stood up straight, puzzled for a moment at Pato's sudden aggression. Then his left hand reached up to his newly exposed eye and realized he was missing the patch. "Oh, nuggets."

"_And his eyes themselves failed to agree, an outer sign of the inner flaw,_" Pato intoned from memory.

"Yes, I always thought that was an overly dramatic way to refer to mismatched eyes." His blue orb on the left and gray on the right both rolled together. His hands raised. "You caught me. You know what I am."

"A Flawed Avatar."

"I prefer the term Blender myself. Tacky, I know, but far less… well, evil than Flawed Avatar."

Pato stamped, calling up a chunk of stone, then slammed his fist, sending it flying at the demon before him. Instead of dodging it, or figuring out a way to send it flying back as Pato had assumed he'd somehow do, the Flawed Avatar merely blocked it with an arm. It crumbled into him, sending him flying backwards covered in rubble. Standing up and trying to shake off the attack, Tarno dropped into a crouch, beginning the forms of a waterbending technique. Unsure what to expect, Pato braced for some sort of impact. But all that happened was the mist closed about tighter, thicker, obscuring the stranger from sight. The voice that wafted out seemed to come from nowhere, from everywhere.

"We aren't all that bad, you know."

And then, as the lone defender stood guarding the world from a monster, and the mist swirled and curled around buildings and his recumbent friends, the only sound in the night was footsteps fading into the distance.

_A/N: What is a Flawed Avatar? Why are they feared? Where is he going? What does he intend? Maybe if I feel like it I'll write another chapter, and you can find out._


	2. Seized

_A/N: Warning. There is a curse/bad pun towards the end of the first section. You have been warned._

The robed figure limped up to the gate. At first the Fire Nation guards stood alert, thinking perhaps there was at last some fun to be had. Ever since the town's spirit had been broken, duty had been dull. However, as they took in how much this man favored his leg, saw the bandages stained a dark red around his calf, the eye patch, the realized there was no real sport to be had today.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Just a weary traveler," the visitor wheezed. "Looking for a place to rest and buy some supplies."

"And how came you by your injury? Are you a soldier of the Earth Kingdom, wounded by the Fire Army?"

The man chuckled. "No, I'm no soldier. A lonely trapper, trying to scrape a living out of the hills until a bear decided to tryto scrape a living out of me. I'm not saying I wouldn't have tried to fight you off if I could, but being born with one eye no army would have taken me. I pray that you'll let me visit a healer and purchase some stores in peace."

The soldiers shared a glance. No threat, no spine, he wasn't even all the fun to bully. "Weapons check, and you can go."

"Of course. Thank you, kind sirs."

The man took off his outer robe, revealing the sturdy leather vest and baggy pants, his tough arms raising some suspicions from the guard. Noting the waterskin held on a strap over one arm, he nodded at the two sticks in the visitor's belt. "And what are those?"

"These?" He pulled one out, offering it for inspection. "They are merely-" Snatching it back before the soldier's fingers closed about it, Tarno flung the fan at the second guard before planting a foot firmly in the midriff of the soldier before him. Spinning, he thumbed open the waterskin and flung out an arm. A jet of water shot out, soaking the readied signal fire just as a flameblast struck it. It steamed, but refused to light.

"Sorry, no one's coming to save you." A hand gesture brought up the last of the water from the skin to block a fireball launched at him, before he pulled the second fan from his sash and attacked the first guard. Ducking under his block, the caught the man behind his shoulders, twisting him to meet his companion's next fireball. Unable to effectively block with one hand, part of his armor caught aflame and he dropped to the ground as Tarno released him. Transferring the fan to his left hand, he stepped on the fallen guard's back and leapt at the last soldier. Another blast of flame was blocked on the brass webbing, then the combat was too close for Bending.

Soon, Tarno was able to throw his opponent, then a heel drop into his gut and he was down. He spun as he stood to reach where the first fan had landed, raising into a fighting stance as the first guard finally beat the flames off his own scorched armor and stood.

An evil smile on his face, the sentrybrought his hands together, pulling them slowly apart as a ball of flame breathed to life. As his hands gently stroked it, it grew, the fire burning white hot in the center. "You're out of water to bend."

Tarno gritted his teeth, then took a deep breath. He let it out in a low hum, and took another. This time, he held both fans open above his head, stretching out to his full height. Lunging forward, he brought both fans down at once with a loud "HA!" of effort.

The Firebender's eyes grew wide with disbelief as a blue curve of Bent air slashed at him. He barely was able to form his fireball into a shield to mitigate the oncoming rush, and was slammed by the backlash into a tree behind him. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

For a long minute, the Flawed Avatar stood there in silence. His mouth was twisted into a grimace of effort, his breathing labored. He hadn't yet moved from his position at the end of that last form. Finally, his breathing slowed and his body relaxed enough to allow him to stand upright. "I am in control. I am in control. I am in control…" his mantra continued until finally he shook his shoulders, blinked, and appeared to notice his surroundings for the first time. He walked calmly over to his final opponent, still unmoving on the ground, his chest barely moving to breathe. Tarno lashed out with a vengeful foot and kicked him in the side. "Get Bent." And with that, he retrieved his waterskin from the ground, removed the bandages stained with berry juice form his leg, and walked into town.

At the first public house Tarno came to, he walked in, found a mostly empty table, and vaulted onto it. He stood there, arms crossed for a moment. He let silence ripple out, allowed all eyes to take him in. He spoke softly and simply.

"In an hour's time, there will be a commotion at the well. Most of the Fire Guards will be there. Take the chance to escape their grasp, fight back while they have their hands full, warn them and curry favor, or do nothing. That is all."

He stepped down and walked out the door, ignoring the few calls. "What commotion?" "You'll get us all killed!" "Who are you?" Once outside, he paused for a moment and muttered a curse under his breath. He walked down the street to where a small group of children played marbles, and knelt beside them.

"Hey, guys? Can any of you tell me where the well is?"

Several wrong turns later, and barely within the hour he'd given himself, Tarno pulled a bucket up from the well and used it to refill his waterskin. At this point in the afternoon, after chores were done but before it was time to start cooking dinner, it was mostly deserted. The few Fire Nation guards watched him carefully, but made no outward moves of aggression. Apparently their spy network wasn't as good as he'd thought. If there weren't more guards here, his plan wouldn't work out so well. Still, nothing for it but to try.

He began his slow dance, circling the well, moving from form to Waterbending form smoothly, gracefully. The guards noticed this and became more agitated, wondering if it was their job to worry about this or not. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed extra soldiers running from down broad boulevards, a runner making it to the guard station with a message for the sentries on duty. From the way their eyes snapped to him, it was obvious the message was the one he'd left in the pub. Right on time.

As the Fire Army began converging, the well overflowed. Tarno's dance had been pulling it higher and higher, and now gallons spilt over the stone edge, turning the dusty ground to mud, soaking his feet through his sandals, spreading out quickly.

Immediately, several soldiers launched fireballs. With a sweeping kick, Tarno bent a shield of water the fire sizzled out against. Again and again, waves of water were dodged, flames quenched. The first few fire soldiers fell quickly, but the veterans were working together and the tide of battle was turning.

Behind the army, Tarno noticed a family dodge out of their house, hasty bundles strapped to backs, children carried as they dashed for the town gates. He smiled. This one city, seized by the Fire Nation so recently, would be depopulated by nightfall. There would be no more slave labor from this town. Now if only he could make it out of here alive…

He knew what he'd have to do to survive this battle, knew it when he'd made this plan. Emotions warred within him, clashing like his eyes as he slipped off the eyepatch. Regret at what he'd have to do, elation at the anticipation, disgust at his own elation. He was of two minds, as he was about everything. The tragedy of being Flawed.

Today was a day stories would be told about. As he Bent air to deflect a fireball at another soldier, he couldn't stop a mad shriek from escaping his throat.

"And you wouldn't believe what happened next! Well, the demons he'd summoned out of the mist were holding down poor Moji, but he was still able to help Pato fight him off. Oh, I'll never know how they did it, but my brave Pato was able to drive that Flawed Avatar into the mist, and rescue his friends from certain death. I only fear that now Pato is back in the army, we're unprotected if the Flawed One comes back for revenge."

The little old lady sitting at the table put a hand to her mouth, eyes open wide in amazement. "You don't say… Oh, deary me, is no one safe these days? I'll try to spread the word. What did you say he looked like again?" She pulled a wisp of her graying hair out of her face, tucking it neatly into her bun.

"Oh, Obaa-san, I hadn't meant to frighten you. Don't you worry, if you see him, you just run to the nearest Earth Soldiers. They'll protect you. Well let's see… I told you he was tall…"

"How tall? What part of the doorway was his head past when he walked through?"

"Oh… I'd say, do you see that knot on it? Maybe a bit above that."

"Do forgive my interruption. Go on."

"Well, and the eyepatch of course, but that was just to disguise his eyes. And he wore a light colored robe, and his dark hair was kind of spiky on the top."

"Did you see which way he left town?"

"Well he was headed east, but who can really say? He might have doubled back through the mist. There's no way to tell, really."

"That's a blessing; I'm headed west. Thank you, my dear one." She counted out a few coins and pressed them with slightly shaking hands into Makka's. "For the room last night, for the breakfast this morning, and for the warning. I must be on my way to my grandson's, but if I ever stop through this town again I'll be sure to see you." Smiling up at the girl, the expression wrinkling her face even more, the woman took her cane and hobbled out the door.

She stepped into an alley across the way. There were a few minutes of careful silence, and soon a man walked out, headed the opposite direction of the old lady. He turned, smiling and nodding to Makka, who was now out sweeping the front of the inn.

Had anyone looked in his backpack, they'd have found a shawl very much like the one the old lady had worn. They would also have found a twist of horsehair, dyed gray, and a rag coated in make-up. A small ornamental knob which, attached to the simple stick he'd first found in the woods, and just now left behind in the alley, would look like an heirloom cane.

So let's see... Short dark hair, about five-ten if the girl's word could be trusted, and headed east. If the pattern was followed, he'd've turned north outside of town. Whistling a mesmerizing tune, he walked out of town towards the east, eyes cast to the dirt, idly scanning for footprints.


	3. Yard Work

Tarno jogged easily through the woods. His robe, singed from his battle to liberate the Earth town whose name he had never even bothered to memorize, was still in his pack. He'd reduce it to what strips could be salvaged and ditch the rest when he had time. For now he had a deadline.

It was a quick pace, but one he could keep up all day if need be. The loose weave of his eyepatch dulled his vision, but not enough to lose depth perception. A small price to pay to avoid the stigma of being Flawed.

He knew he was reaching the end of his journey, and the silence told him what he needed to know. Once again, his information was faulty. If there'd ever even been a battle here, it was over. He crested the last rise and looked down the gentle slope at the open, empty field.

The ground had been demolished, churned and broken beyond recognition by feet and Earthbending, slick with blood in some places, scorched in others. Tarno slowed to a walk, catching his breath as he calmly took in the sight. His feet were on auto-pilot at the moment, trying to think of what his next step should be. He tried to recall a map of the area in his mind, think of where the nearest town would be, anywhere he could ask where the front was in the war. Somewhere he could do something useful.

At the bottom of the hill he noticed most of the weapons and bodies, the assorted detritus of war, had been cleared away. A team of five men with wheelbarrows was at the far end piling the last of the corpses up and taking them to where a funeral pyre burned, dumping anything that could be salvaged to the side. In front of him, half a dozen men of varying ages worked the soil, chopping with hoes or shifting with spades. A small area had been cleared as they worked their arduous way across.

An old man, drinking from a jug of water, saw Tarno walk up. His calculating eye searched for any insignia that would label him as friend or foe. When he found no outward sign, he simply held out the jug. "Drink, neighbor?"

Wordlessly, Tarno accepted, taking a few swigs before passing the jug back. "I missed the battle then?"

"Ended two days ago. The Fire Army broke and retreated after almost a week of combat. It look the last of the Earth reserves to do so. Now… the families of my farm work to get the field ready to be planted."

An entire week he could have helped, and he missed it by two days. Tarno stared out to the west, face blank, thinking of the lost opportunity to prove himself. After a moment his gaze dropped back to the man, considering his plight. "It's almost spring."

"Aye, that it is. The seeds we planted before the battle was pitched here are lost. If we can't get this field ready to receive seed by the first rains, we'll have lost the entire crop." He looked back at Tarno and forced a smile. "Don't listen to me belly-ache. Go on, you can catch up with the armies. You've still got time. Save us from the Fire Nation, lad."

Tarno smiled and nodded, and began jogging away. After five steps, he stopped, looking at the old men and young boys chopping at the soil. He stopped and called back. "What's your name, friend?"

"Hemi."

"Hemi… they couldn't spare an Earthbender? Just one could get this field fixed in a day or two."

"They didn't have a Bender to spare. They won, but only just. Besides, Bending for a farm is far different from battle. Most of those soldiers wouldn't know what to do." He opened his mouth to say something more, but then stopped himself and dropped his eyes.

Tarno let the silence stretch a moment, then said, "But you know someone who does know how to Bend a field for planting."

Hemi smiled with pride. "My boy. An Earthbender, like his mother, rest her soul. Neither was the best Bender in the world, but they knew how to keep a farm going. It was her family that owned this farm, they who kept it going through feast and famine." His eyes met Tarno's smiling, impassive face, and the silence drew more out of him. "Taken by the Earth Army, he was. Drafted to fight. Before he could take a wife, pass on his gift to another generation. Haven't even heard from him in years." Hemi shivered, then grabbed his shovel back up and headed for the line of men digging again.

Tarno watched as he started work. The group, untried youth next to stooped shoulders, he muttered under his breath, "If I was the Avatar, I could fix this field in an hour, tops."

He hadn't meant to be heard, but realized as Hemi laughed that he had been. "Neighbor, there are problems in this world that can't be solved by all the Bending in the fables. Even the Avatar has to learn that. Now go. Go fight the war. Perhaps you'll save the life of my son."

Tarno nodded, and walked back to the pile of tools. Dropping his pack beside them, he grabbed a hoe and joined the line working across the field. As Hemi glanced at him, eyes wide in surprise, he grunted. "Perhaps I'll spend a day making sure your son has a farm to come home to."

Hemi laughed once more, and that was the last word spoken as they worked until the sun chased the running armies to the western horizon.

The Fire soldier walked through the broken western gate, gazing through his mask at the destruction inside. Water collected in puddles, scorch marks traced jagged lines along walls, all in all it looked like battle. There were few civilians to be seen. He walked up to a small group of Firebenders standing in the shade of a wall for a moment.

He gave a quick salute and immediately cut through formalities. "There's a General out there who wants to know what the hell happened here."

So stern was his voice the Benders found themselves snapping to attention without realizing it, before they even saw the markings of a lieutenant on his uniform. "Fl… Flawed Avatar, sir. There's one loose, and he attacked."

"A Flawed One? What makes you so sure, private?"

"He could bend Air and Water, sir. From reports we know he wasn't the real Avatar, and some of the boys swear they got a look at his eyes. One blue, one gray, they said, sir."

"Well? Where is he being held? Or were you forced to kill him?"

The spokesman turned desperately to his friends, who both acted like they had never seen him before in their lives. "Er… well, sir… in point of fact, neither. He… he technically escaped, sir." The cold, impassive mask before him didn't twitch, didn't move. After long seconds he felt compelled to add to his report. "Sir, you wouldn't have believed what he could do. He had this ball of air he'd ride on, up walls and around the troops. Faster than a Rhino could gallop, sir. And sir, you know how hard it is to break through a shield of water with fireblasts. None of us have ever fought an Airbender before, sir. We never thought we'd have to, we don't know how to deal with their tactics. But we did learn, sir, and we won't get caught the same way twice."

"Do we have any idea what he was after?"

"I don't get told such things, sir. But … well, he's Flawed. Who knows why those psycho freaks do anything? He just wanted to pick a fight, is all."

The officer looked up and down the empty streets. "Town looks pretty deserted."

The private slouched in dismay. "Well… in the fight, most of the townsfolk got free. We were all being given conflicting orders, sent from one part of the town to the other trying to set traps, chase him down. Sentries got pulled off duty. In the confusion… most of the city escaped, sir. After we drove out the Flawed One, a squad was sent out. They brought back a few dozen. The rest… have gotten away."

Even through the mask, the lieutenant's silence had a disgusted air. The soldier he was interviewing found himself dropping his gaze in shame. Finally, when it was obvious nothing more was forthcoming, he spoke. "Very well. The General will not like this news. I'd get that uniform polished until it shines, if I were you. I think you'll be needing it." Turning, he stalked back out the gate and down the road.

The guards stood stiffly at attention until he was well down the road, past the bend and out of sight. Only then did they start breathing normally and sharing frightened looks. They each stood, silent in inner calculation, trying to decide how best to get out of trouble, for over a minute before one of them voiced hesitantly, "Say… which General did he say he was with, again?"

Past the bend, the lieutenant ducked into the woods. He stripped out of his armor, dropping it on top of the unconscious form he had 'borrowed' it from. Peeling off the fake lieutenant's pips, he dropped them in his backpack, wrapped in the shawl of his 'little old lady' disguise. He'd checked all the gates of the city, but hadn't learned much new in this last one. Keeping to the woods, parallel to the main road, he headed north and east in the direction the Flawed Avatar was seen to go.


End file.
